


A Matter of Trust

by loathsome_child



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Bonding Through Trauma, Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Prison, Sokka POV, Sokka Tries To Hold Things Together, Threats of Violence, Violence, Whump, Zuko Puts Everything On The Line To Earn The Gaang's Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-13 18:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loathsome_child/pseuds/loathsome_child
Summary: Sometimes you have to sacrifice your dignity to protect your life. Sokka understood this. Zuko didn't, yet.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 75
Kudos: 566





	1. The Best-Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> I love Boiling Rock fics and there aren't enough of them, so this is my attempt to write one. The first chapter is introductory and the rest will deviate from episode canon and (TW) contain sexual activity performed under duress.

Zuko was either incredibly confident or incredibly suicidal.

This was the thought that struck Sokka as he clambered over the ridge of Appa's saddle to find Zuko splayed back against the other side, arms crossed, his one black eyebrow raised smugly. The expression on his face was akin to that of a parent oddly proud of a child who'd been caught elbow deep in the seal blubber pot.

Sokka hadn't asked him to come along. He also hadn't tried too hard to stop him. Sokka didn’t know a terrible lot (or anything at all, really) about Fire Nation prisons, much less how to go about finding one. The strategist in him knew he needed help, and his warrior pride wasn’t above recognizing this. Whether _ Zuko _ had a strategist side, however, was another matter entirely. It was one of those things Sokka tried to avoid thinking about, but which he also couldn’t _ not _think about. A traitor prince willingly breaking into the highest security prison in the country from which he’d defected was, to understate, one of the worst plans he had ever seen anyone insist on. Yet here they were. 

And so the thought had emerged. Of course, there was also the possibility that Katara had been right in her withering judgement of Zuko’s character. Maybe he was hoping to lure Sokka somewhere he could easily be captured and then run back to his father’s court to mobilize a Fire Nation army against the Western Air Temple, just like his grandfather. It was possible, sure, but he had a hard time believing it was likely. Zuko’s inner strategist was eclipsed by his honor - it had never given him the ability to lie. From a survival standpoint, this wasn’t an ideal quality, but it sure was reassuring. 

* * *

It wasn’t until he was crouched in Suki’s cell, ear pressed against the metal door, helmet tucked under his arm and Suki’s hand sweat-slicked and squeezing his, that it occurred to him that maybe Zuko was, in all actuality, just incredibly impulsive. 

He listened painfully to the teenager’s frantic efforts to cover for him, which culminated in one spectacularly unconvincing moment. (_"The lights are out. The prisoner could sneak up on you." _) Predictably, this warranted only the guard’s dismissal, but rather than the jingle of keys and the clunk of metal as the door’s double locks slid open, Sokka heard the unmistakable sounds of a quickly escalating scuffle. Flesh coming into contact with flesh. A quick shout of surprise punctuated by a tone of righteous indignation. Grunts, shuffling, more angry shouting from the guard.

Sokka crouched, and listened, and tried to fight the panic splintering apart each thought faster than he could piece them back together. He had to come up with some sort of actionable plan _ now_, some way to grab Suki, subdue the guard, grab Zuko, and escape. Or more realistically, some way to cover for Zuko without exposing himself. Zuko was an incredible fighter, Sokka could (grudgingly) admit that, but they were surrounded by firebenders in the middle of a volatile hunk of rock situated inside a volcano. Zuko wasn’t going to win this fight, even if Sokka and Suki helped him. 

_ ‘You fucking idiot’ _ was the only thought his brain could stutter out for a good ten seconds or so. He wasn’t sure which of them his brain thought the idiot was. But now wasn’t really the time to ponder it. Something, probably a body judging by the _ thwack _ of it, had just been thrown against the outside of the metal door, rattling the hinges. 

He left Suki’s cell as covertly as possible once he heard the footsteps of the scuffling pair stumble a little further down the hallway, only to be hailed almost immediately by the guard. Sokka turned to face her but hung back, indecisive. The scene in front of him would’ve been comical in almost any other situation. The guard had one arm pinned between her own chest and Zuko’s shoulder, the other pressing against his face, trying to dislodge him from where he was spider-bear hugging her in a way that wouldn’t have been out of place in an Earth Rumble tournament. 

A small, primal part of his brain couldn’t help but bask ever so slightly in schadenfreude at how undignified Zuko looked with his wrestling moves and a hand clawing at his uneven, scowling face. It was, after all, not often that Zuko looked anything other than dignified, even when he was serving tea to the group with proper Earth Kingdom etiquette and then fucking off to angst quietly in a corner. Zuko did everything royally, including sulking, and he was a royal pain in the ass too. This would warrant some much needed teasing later on, when they were all safe.

And they would be. It was just best to do nothing now so he could do something later, and hope there was no standing order from the Fire Lord for Zuko’s execution. They would escape soon, once Sokka had thought of a plan. Mind made up as best it could be when the future was so nebulous, Sokka approached, ready to play his part and arrest the imposter. 

* * *

In the time that had passed since Zuko had been taken into custody, Sokka had noticed a subtle but encompassing shift in the surly teen’s demeanour. All of the usual determination was still there, and he could tell Zuko was working hard to appear unperturbed, but there was a sort of frayed, nervous energy emanating from him that Sokka hadn’t seen since Zuko had prostrated himself before Aang and asked to be taken prisoner. It was just as disturbing now as it had been then. His face had a continuously strained look, like he was constantly expecting to be shipped back to his father but didn’t know when it would happen, and the anticipation was killing him. 

When Sokka had ducked behind the stairwell Zuko and Suki had been mopping to discuss their initial plan of escape, he’d noticed a bruise on Zuko’s collarbone, peeking out from beneath his threadbare red uniform, and a couple more peppering the right side of his jaw and cheekbone. Zuko hadn’t said anything, had only rolled his eyes and shifted so that his right side was angled out of view when he’d noticed the Water Tribe boy staring. So Sokka hadn’t said anything about it either, but it had left him feeling distinctly unsettled, and with a new sense of urgency.

Which was why he was currently heading towards Zuko’s cell. With the help of his dad, who had thankfully been in the shipment of new prisoners they’d all staked their freedom on, he’d come up with a second, better escape plan. It was a reckless and dangerous plan, yes, but that sort of went with the territory when you were staging a prison break. Which wasn’t reassuring, but when was anything? He’d already informed Suki. He just had one person left to tell. Sokka loved being the bearer of good news.

But as he approached the cell, he became unmistakably aware, with a warrior’s certainty, that something wasn’t quite right. He could hear the sound of a raised voice, muffled by the metal barrier but distinct, angry. Sokka reached out, placed a hand against the door, testing. It was shut, but unlocked. Someone was inside. Someone _else_. 


	2. The Art of Persuasion

Sokka slowly edged open the cell door, trying to appease its creaky hinges. The stealth mode locked into his muscle memory liked to come out in high-pressure situations, even when he wasn’t in a position to be staging sneak attacks. He was a boomerang guy, after all. He preferred the element of surprise.

That is, he preferred to use it against others. He didn’t, however, like to _ be _ surprised. And while the scene that came into view once he’d entered the cell was not particularly unexpected, that did little to stop his heart from sinking painfully into his stomach. 

Zuko was kneeling near the far wall, hands cuffed behind his back. A bulky guard, male but otherwise indistinguishable, was looming over him, his left hand bunched into the fabric of Zuko’s uniform, pulling him upwards to better yell in his face. 

“ - worse for you, you _ fucking useless _ -” 

Whatever the intended end of that sentence had been, the guard seemed to think it would be better expressed physically. He raised his fist and, before Sokka could register a way to react, punched Zuko squarely across the face, rescinding his restraining grip on the teen’s uniform as he made contact. Zuko fell sideways and landed roughly on his shoulder, unable to cushion the impact with his arms bound. He immediately struggled back to his knees as if his honor depended on it, which it probably did, and the guard took a menacing step forward, clearly intent on beating Zuko in earnest if he was so eager to prove he hadn’t been affected.

It was at this moment that Sokka’s body caught up with his brain, a surge of adrenaline propelling him between Zuko and the guard, his arms outstretched like a human shield. 

“Stop!”

He couldn’t risk blowing his cover by attacking the man, but he also wouldn’t stand by and let this continue. The guard paused, shocked, which was understandable given no one had noticed he was in the cell to begin with. Sneak attacks. Sokka was good at them. He could feel Zuko’s eyes boring into his back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” The guard looked half-confused, half-pissed, like Sokka had knocked a bowl of fire flakes out of his hands right as he’d been about to spoon them into his mouth. Fire Flake. That would make an adequate nickname. Not one of his best, but he had other things on his mind at the moment. 

“I’m, uh…” Spirits help him. “This is the Fire Lord’s son.” Sokka gestured jerkily back at Zuko, as if this was news. “And, um, the Warden might not want you to beat him up too much. You know? ‘Cause he’s royalty.” He could hear Zuko groan behind him and winced. Well, at least Zuko would now understand what it had felt like to listen to his stilted attempts to keep that female guard from entering Suki’s cell. This though, this was worse. And unlike Zuko, Sokka wouldn’t be able to physically step in much, not when he finally had an actionable escape plan that was wholly dependent on the right timing and his relative insider status. Sokka would still mitigate this situation, though. He’d just have to go about it via the art of persuasion.

Fire Flake looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you fucking stupid? This, _ this _ ...” He floundered momentarily as he tried to come up with a descriptor horrible enough to express what Zuko was to him. “This piece of human _ garbage _ is a traitor to our nation. He was born unfit for the title Agni gave him. How can you not know this?” 

Sokka shifted uncomfortably. “I thought he’d been welcomed back to the Fire Lord’s court after proving his loyalty in Ba Sing Se.”

“Do you live under a rock? That’s old news.”

“I’m new. I was just, uh, transferred. From an outpost in the colonies. Word doesn’t really get down there very quickly.” He punctuated this statement with a shrug. The guard seemed to buy it. 

“Well, I’ve got news for you then. He betrayed us, attacked his own father, and turned his back on his people.” There was a barely restrained emotionality to Fire Flake’s voice, as if it was taking everything in him to explain this without delivering a few swift kicks to Zuko’s abdomen to let off steam. If Sokka hadn’t been between them, he probably would’ve. 

“He’s the Warden’s_ special _ prisoner now.” This was said with a euphemistic intonation that Sokka really, really didn’t like. Fire Flake smiled at him, but his eyes stayed hard. 

“Oh.” Sokka stood, momentarily frozen, half of his brain struggling to take this in, the other half working adamantly to reject the implications of it. The guard shoved him aside impatiently, causing him to stumble out from between the ex-prince and his current tormentor. 

“The Warden needs to speak to you. That’s why I came in here. I was supposed to notify you.” 

“You know,” Fire Flake jabbed a finger into Sokka’s chest. “At first I thought you were just really Agni-cursed stupid, but it’s starting to seem like you’re actually trying to protect him.” 

_ Fuck. _“No. No, I mean - ” 

Fire Flake leaned in close, gripping his bicep in a pointedly unfriendly manner. “The _ Warden _ is the one who - ” 

But before the hulking man could complete what was obviously going to be a very damning sentence, he stumbled sideways, caught off guard by the roundhouse kick Zuko had just delivered to his face. 

Sokka looked at Zuko. 

Zuko looked back. 

The shared glance couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it was an entire conversation unto itself. Zuko glared, an obvious reprimand. _ Stop jeopardizing your position. I’ll be fine. _ He could almost hear the teen’s raspy voice in his head. Sokka stared back, wide-eyed, trying to telepathically communicate that he had an escape plan and Zuko needed to be in one piece when it came time to act on it, but he didn’t know what to do _ now_, didn’t know how to help, and… 

Fire Flake wasn’t down for long. The kick had been weak. It was hard to get adequate momentum with your hands bound behind you, and Sokka suspected that the punch he’d witnessed wasn’t the first Zuko had been dealt that day. Who knew how long the guard had been here before Sokka had arrived. That was another thought that was less than reassuring. It could be added to the growing list. 

“You son of a bitch.”

Fire Flake threw an extremely angry, extremely haphazard punch at Zuko, who managed to dodge the clumsy blow without too much difficulty despite his current state. This only provoked the guard further, but paradoxically it seemed to have a concurrent sobering effect, and thus his next attack was much more effective. He fisted both hands into the fabric of Zuko’s shirt and threw him bodily into the metal wall. Zuko hit it with a pained grunt and slid down to the floor. Fire Flake followed up with three kicks in quick succession, not giving Zuko any time to recover. The first was to his face, splitting his lip and bloodying his nose, and the last two were aimed at his stomach, causing Zuko to gasp and curl in on himself. The gasp was quickly eclipsed by pained wheezing. Blood was streaming down from his lips and nose. Droplets of it speckled the floor as he wheezed. 

Fire Flake wasn’t wasting any time. He grabbed Zuko by the neck and dragged him upright, pinning him to the wall by his throat. Sokka watched, horror struck, as Zuko’s legs did a sort of frenzied tap dance. He wasn’t wheezing anymore. It probably had something to do with the way all his body weight was hanging from the prison guard’s noose-like grip. 

“Are you looking to die, boy?” 

Zuko let out a terrible rasping sound. Belatedly, Sokka realized it was meant to be a laugh, and couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. 

The guard shot Zuko a disgusted look, slapping him lazily before releasing his grasp on the teenager’s neck. Zuko crumpled. The wheezing redoubled, only it was twice as intense now. Sokka felt sick.

“You’re going to kill him,” he breathed, unable to keep the tone of horror from his voice. 

“Nah, he’ll be fine. I’m just trying to soften him up a bit beforehand.”

The statement was ominous, and although Sokka was glad to hear Fire Flake had no direct homicidal intent, ‘beforehand’ definitely meant something the complete opposite of good. Despite being aware of this, he wasn’t prepared to see the man reach down to unbuckle the belt of his black uniform slacks. 

“What are you doing?” He knew it was a dumb question, but the words tumbled out regardless.

“You really are new, aren’t you.” Zuko's wheezing had abated and given way to hoarse coughing. He wasn’t sitting back up. “A couple of guards have been trying for days to give this traitor the royal treatment.” Fire Flake gestured vaguely at his crotch to illustrate, but it wasn’t necessary. Sokka already had a highly disturbing, likely accurate idea of what he was referring to. “But _ Prince _Zuko has decided he’s too good for them. Apparently his mouth is only fit for lying and subverting. He considers himself above opening it for anything else.

“Can’t blame him entirely when the previous guards were so Agni-cursed soft with him. So the Warden asked me to try my hand at breaking his spirit. He knew I’d be a bit more convincing.”

If the growing collection of bruises that had sprung up on Zuko in the past week were this guy’s idea of soft, Sokka didn’t want to know what he considered rough treatment. He had to put a stop to this before Fire Flake inflicted that treatment on Zuko, before he finished unbuckling his pants, before - 

“This seems like a bad method of spirit breaking. A very bad method. We should probably put him in the cooler for a while instead. Firebenders hate that more than anything, ever. It really turns the temperature down on their inner fire, and fire is life so… it’s like all the benefits of murder with none of the permanency. Unless you think the permanency is a benefit. But it definitely wouldn’t be in this case!” 

“Quit blabbering,” said the guard, “or leave.”

He had finished unbuckling his belt. Sokka caught a glimpse of what was poking out, half hard, and quickly looked away. By the time he looked back, Fire Flake was pulling Zuko up onto his knees by his arms. The teen had stopped coughing, but a deep red pattern of hand-shaped bruising was beginning to appear around his neck.

“Fuck. You.” Zuko spat emphatically. His voice was hoarse, thick with a heavy mixture of loathing and desperation. 

“Your wish is my command, your majesty.” 

Fire Flake fisted one hand into Zuko’s overgrown mop of hair, tilting his head back and guiding his dick toward the teen’s firmly shut mouth. Zuko squeezed his eyes closed and clamped his teeth together so tightly that his jaw started twitching. He tried to jerk his head away, the shackles around his wrists clanking as he instinctively fought to free his arms, but the guard’s grip on his hair only tightened. Fire Flake’s dick was pressed against the outside of Zuko’s lips, smearing the blood that had run down from his nose. Sokka thought faintly that it was one of the worst things he’d ever seen. How many people had tried to do this to him? Why hadn’t Zuko said anything about it?

For a few agonizing moments, Zuko and the guard stayed like that, locked in a silent battle of wills. When it had become abundantly clear that the ex-prince wasn’t going to open his mouth no matter how hard he nudged his cock against it, the guard released his grip on Zuko’s hair and backhanded him, hard. Zuko fell sideways onto his shoulder, more blood flying from his mouth, and quickly grit his teeth to muffle his cry of pain. The guard tucked his dick back into his pants but didn’t bother fastening his belt. He then crouched over Zuko and grabbed his chin, forcing the ex-prince to look at him. 

“You’ll open your mouth if you know what’s good for you.” He shook Zuko’s head with his hand, as if it hoping to rattle some compliance into him. “There are so many things I could do to you. Cut your losses, traitor, and cooperate. Otherwise things may have to get excessive.” Zuko stayed silent and defiant, his pale eyes glaring daggers, his body rigid, somehow still managing to look as haughty and royal as ever. 

Sokka knew with an unwavering certainty that this sort of cajoling wasn’t going to work on Zuko. This was, after all, the same Jerkbender who’d obsessively chased Aang all over the world for six months with a type of crazed determination that should’ve been physically impossible. Sokka didn’t think he’d ever known anyone more stubborn, reckless, or prideful, and he was pretty certain all three traits ending up combined in one person to such an absurd degree was the sort of freak occurrence most people liked to blame on the Spirit World. 

“Um,” Sokka said, his voice a bit shaky, trying to think of a way to distract the guard before Zuko had to learn what ‘excessive’ meant. “Why are you… I mean, why _ this_? Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Hopefully this line of questioning would allow Fire Flake to self reflect a little. That’s how Aang would go about it. He was always trying to get people to see the error of their ways with annoying leading questions. Of course, Aang was a hopelessly naive twelve year old all powerful spirit bridge who believed in love and rainbows, but Sokka wasn’t going to dismiss out of hand anything at all right now. He was desperate. 

Fire Flake let go of Zuko’s chin and stood, leveling Sokka with an extremely unimpressed stare. “Prisoners don’t count as men. And what, you think I’d smack around my girlfriend like this?” Sokka thought it was probably safest not to answer that. “He’s a traitor and a prisoner, and this is what traitors get. He’d do the same to you if the situation was reversed. Hell, he’s already done worse to all of us, to his country. 

“I thought there was some sort of cognitive evaluation you had to pass in order to be stationed in the colonies. Oh wait, don’t tell me, that’s why you were transferred here.”

“Um, maybe?” Sokka squeaked. “But anyway, I don’t think he’s going to… do the thing you want him to. At least not right now.” He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Maybe you should give it a rest and try again tomorrow. That’ll allow some time for the dread to really build up, and he can think long and hard about his current position, weigh his options, imagine what excessive looks like... You know. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

Zuko had taken this moment of respite to prop himself up in a more dignified position, his back against the wall. His legs were stretched in front of him, and his head was tilted back against the bolted metal in something that looked almost like supplication. His eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling, and there was a sort of rawly crumpled, all too vulnerable expression on his face that he probably thought was safe to express now that Fire Flake’s attention was momentarily fixated elsewhere. Zuko likely thought Sokka’s attention was fixated elsewhere too. He wasn’t crying, but that was probably only due to his inhuman aversion to showing weakness. 

“Just,” Sokka continued, trying not to linger on the futility of reasoning with a man who got obvious sexual pleasure from assaulting someone half his age and size. “When I say tomorrow, I mean like, tomorrow evening. Or night. If you come back in the morning, it’ll be too soon. He won’t have had time to get truly fearful yet. Can’t be hasty when it comes to psychological manipulation.” They would be escaping some time in the early afternoon, if all went well. By the time the guard came back, they’d be long gone. 

Nothing was ever that easy though. The Spirits hated him. Or they hated Zuko. Well, they probably hated both of them, which was why this was happening.

“Let me explain how things work around here,” Fire Flake said slowly. “The guards tell the prisoners what to do. The prisoners do it. A guard doesn’t run away and ‘come back later’ when a prisoner has an attitude problem. He corrects the attitude problem right away, like a man. And that’s how we maintain our authority. Got it?”

Sokka nodded mutely. 

Zuko, anticipating that his break had just ended, curled his knees protectively toward his chest, face shuttering closed again.

“Watch and learn,” Fire Flake said far too gleefully, grabbing Zuko by the front of his uniform and once again plunking him roughly onto his knees. 

“Here’s how it’s going to be.” The man’s voice was low, dangerous. Zuko was glaring up at him brazenly, the vulnerability of just a moment ago covered almost entirely by the strength of his loathing. “You can either take my cock into your mouth and suck it until I come down your throat, or - ” he held his right hand aloft, a ball of fire flickering to life in his palm. “ - I can make your right side match your left.” 

The reaction was immediate. Zuko jerked away from the flame, tensing so hard that his shoulders nearly touched his ears. He leaned as far back as the restraining hand would allow, eyes wide and fixated on the fire, a look of open fear and horror flashing nakedly across his face. Sokka could see the moment his mind came back to him enough to allow him to attempt to control his body’s automatic fear response. With tremendous strength of will, Zuko forced his spine to straighten and schooled his features, locking his pale gold eyes back onto Fire Flake’s. His hands were shaking hard enough that Sokka could hear the clanking of his manacles, but he wasn’t cowering anymore. 

Sokka didn’t think he’d ever seen Zuko look angrier, which was saying something given he’d earned the nickname Angry Jerk early on in their acquaintanceship. Zuko had always been easy to antagonize and quick to raise his voice, but this was so much quieter, so much more strained and contained, yet all the more intense for it, like a blocked off fire that compensated for its inability to spread by burning all the hotter. 

All of the intensity was concentrated in his eyes, which were alight with some violent, impotent promise that went beyond rage. Sokka wondered if a firebender had ever managed to incinerate someone just by looking at them. That was starting to seem distinctly possible. 

The fire in Fire Flake’s hand surged as if in response to this thought. He lowered it a fraction closer. Zuko flinched. His entire body was shaking now. Sokka’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He could hear someone’s panicked breathing. He wasn’t sure if it was Zuko’s or his own.

“You haven't changed at all, have you? Still cowering and shaking on your knees. Still a dishonorable, childish brat who doesn’t know how to respect his superiors. At least you aren’t crying like a little bitch this time. I’d be so _ honored _ to fulfill my patriotic duty and finish what Firelord Ozai started.”

Something horrible came over Zuko’s face for a moment, an indescribable, warped expression that Sokka wouldn’t have believed a person could make if he weren’t currently witnessing it. And then Zuko lowered his eyes, and it was gone. 

It seemed this was where he would finally give in. It had been a noble fight, and Zuko had shown far more grit and strength of character than most people would’ve. There was no shame in sacrificing a bit of dignity to avoid having the other half of your face burned off. The guard would once again maneuver his cock to Zuko’s mouth, only this time, there wouldn’t be any resistance. And it would be horrible, but it would be over fast. Satisfied that he’d broken his spirit, Fire Flake would leave, and Sokka would patch Zuko up so they could escape tomorrow morning as planned. They would try to pick up all the shattered pieces somewhere along the way. At least there would still be pieces _left_ to pick up.

At least this would be over. 

Zuko let out a shaky exhale and turned his head, baring his right side, his unscarred side, to the guard, to the fire, to the man who was so much more and less cruel than his father, and whispered out a sentence that froze all the blood in Sokka’s body as effectively as Katara could turn water into ice. 

“Then _ do it_, you fucking coward.” 


	3. A Second Scar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag warnings apply strongly for this chapter. Rest assured that the 'comfort' part of the hurt/comfort tag will start making sense in chapter four.

Utterly suicidal. That’s what Zuko was. Everything else paled in comparison. 

Zuko was bracing himself, eyes closed, the right side of his face still turned toward Fire Flake in a twisted mix of defiance and capitulation. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now, cleaning bits of blood away in thin streaks. Sokka felt like he was experiencing a parallel but wholly internal equivalent, like Zuko’s tears were inside him, streaking away his soul. 

Surely this couldn’t actually be happening. Surely Zuko hadn’t just goaded a firebending prison guard into burning him in the face. And surely that guard wasn’t, at this very moment, bringing his fist down in a sweeping arc, fire blurring like a comet’s tail. No, this had to be a dream, a nightmare. He’d wake up soon, relieved to find himself tucked comfortably into his blue sleeping bag under the upside down awnings of the Western Air Temple. Katara would be cooking breakfast and Aang would be doing hot squats, and Zuko would...

_ Zuko. _

Sokka’s muscles unlocked all at once. He grabbed hold of Fire Flake’s elbow with both hands and yanked it back sharply, away from Zuko’s face. Not a moment too soon, either. The fire had come so close that he half expected to see melted flesh. Fire Flake stumbled backwards, thrown off balance, the flame in his hand sparking out. 

Zuko was looking at him, wide-eyed, an expression of such open relief on his face that Sokka couldn’t bring himself to care that the guard was now approaching _ him_, and boy did he look mad. 

Fire Flake shoved Sokka against the wall and pressed a forearm across his chest, effectively pinning him. Sokka raised his hands in surrender. He’d probably just blown his cover, but he didn’t know what else he possibly could’ve done. 

Things were happening way too fast. His brain was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that Zuko would’ve taken a facefull of fire and been burned possibly beyond repair if Sokka had been just a single second slower. He couldn’t figure out how he’d gone from laughing and chatting with his dad as they brainstormed their escape plan to being pinned against the wall of a disowned prince’s cell by a sadistic guard after jeopardizing his cover in order to stop said guard from burning Zuko’s face off. Not to mention everything that had occurred in between, which included watching helplessly as Fire Flake rubbed his dick across Zuko’s bleeding face. It was just too much.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t arrest you right now for attacking me.”

He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he had to say something, and whatever that something was needed to be said very, very carefully. 

“Because,” he began, struggling to keep his voice level and trying to remember to breathe, “when I was stationed in the colonies, there was this earthbender who wouldn’t stop throwing rocks all the time, and - ”

Fire Flake increased the pressure on Sokka’s chest, cutting him off. “I know you’re retarded, so I’m going easy on you, but that’s going to change unless you get to the point. _ Now_.”

“Okay,” he squeaked appeasingly, and started talking faster. “Well, one of our firebenders burned him in the face to teach him a lesson. Like that.” He gestured weakly toward Zuko. “It got infected, the part around his eye, and the infection spread really quickly to his brain, because the eye is so close to the brain anatomically speaking. And he died. And I mean, good riddance, but the infirmary here is even worse than what those Earth Kingdom citizens had at their disposal, and - ”

“Why should I care if this traitor lives or dies? Why do _ you _ care so much about that?” 

“I don’t,” Sokka said quickly, his voice rising an octave. “It’s just that there’s a reward, right, for Zu-, for the Angry Jerk's capture. A reward from the Fire Lord. I think the Warden would probably be pretty mad if his cash ticket died before he had a chance to collect.”

Fire Flake seemed to be considering this. He wasn’t arresting him, but he also wasn’t saying anything, so Sokka figured it was best to keep talking. 

“The Fire Lord might want to give him a public execution too, so all the important people can watch, and I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be the one who’d deprived the most powerful guy in the world of the opportunity to do so. Just saying. Not to mention, he might want to keep him around and torture him for a bit first instead, in which case I also - ”

“Alright,” Fire Flake said, cutting him off when it became clear he would ramble eternally if allowed to do so. “That’s a fair point. Now stop talking.” He lifted his forearm from Sokka’s chest and turned back toward Zuko, who was kneeling where he’d been left, still shaking slightly. Sokka couldn’t believe that had worked.

“I’ll have to burn a part of him that’s far enough away from his brain then.” 

Nevermind, that had definitely not worked. 

Sokka’s heart, which had just started to beat at a pace more conducive to life, went straight back to stuttering out arrhythmias.

“No, actually - ”

“What now?” The guard sounded supremely irritated. Sokka wrung his hands. What was he supposed to do? 

What _ could _ he do? It was abundantly clear at this point that there were only two options going forward, and his increasingly futile attempts to create more weren’t changing that. This would end with Zuko being burned, or it would end with Zuko sucking Fire Flake’s dick. It felt like a physical blow to the chest to finally let his mind recognize what he’d known all along on some level. That it was a matter of which one, not a matter of preventing both. And it wasn’t a matter of persuading the guard, either.

It was a matter of persuading Zuko. 

It was a horrible thing to come to terms with. It felt like any possible future that contained a good outcome had just snapped shut around them in a single, defining moment, locking them into the present moment, into where the present moment would inevitably lead. 

He knew that Zuko had made his choice. He’d been presented with the same two options Sokka was grappling with right now and decided one was better than the other. But maybe he had made the wrong choice. 

He didn’t know if he had any right to try to change Zuko’s mind. Did a right choice even exist in this situation? He wasn’t prepared to wrestle with the morality of that question. Everything felt like it had slid sideways, like the world was spinning around some focal point that had forgotten how to stay still. 

When it came down to it, though, the reality of the situation was that he couldn’t just stand by and watch the grumpy, awkward teen he’d begun to grudgingly consider a friend be tortured and possibly killed because he’d decided to…_ to die for his honor_. It didn’t matter what part of Zuko Fire Flake burned. He just couldn’t. 

“Let me try to get him to cooperate first." His voice sounded like it was coming from far away and it had a sort of otherworldly calmness to it even though he didn’t feel calm. It must’ve come across as confidence, because the guard looked vaguely taken aback.

“What?”

“I don’t think it would be as… fun to just burn him.” Sokka tried not to think about the words that were coming out of his mouth. “Wouldn’t it be better to at least try one more time to get him to…” He gestured uselessly, unable to bring himself to say it. “Honestly, I think we’d all prefer that. And I think it would break his spirit more too. I mean, he already has one burn, but no one’s done the… mouth stuff to him yet.” The words tasted like acid. 

Zuko was looking at him like he’d never seen him before, his face rippling with infinite layers of emotion. Shock, hurt, fear, anger. 

Betrayal. 

Sokka couldn’t name them all and he didn’t want to try. He felt his heart clench painfully and didn’t meet Zuko’s eyes. Why had Zuko insisted on accompanying him to rescue Sokka’s dad, a man the teen had no connection to and no reason to care about? Why had he sacrificed his own freedom to protect Sokka’s despite obviously having more to lose by getting arrested? Why did he have to force Sokka to convince him that it was better to be sexually assaulted than burned terribly in some unspecified location on his body? He felt like a monster and he hated himself, but he didn’t know what else to do. Spirits damn them both. He wanted to cry, but someone had to hold it together right now. He wished it didn’t have to be him.

“What makes you think _ you’d _ be able to get him to cooperate?” Fire Flake asked, sounding affronted.

“I was on the interrogation squad in the colonies,” Sokka replied automatically, still feeling very far away. “I learned stuff.” 

“How the hell did you end up on an interrogation squad?”

“It wasn’t for very long. There was a personnel shortage.” 

Fire Flake took a few threatening steps toward him. Sokka wondered if he was going to shove him against the wall again. “If, by some miracle he listens to you, which he won’t, it’s only because I softened him up so much first.”

“Oh, yeah, I agree.” He wasn’t rambling anymore. He didn’t have the energy for it, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to be convincing right now. Ironically, that seemed to be making him more convincing. “The credit would be all yours. I’d even tell the Warden what a good job you did.” 

“Fine,” Fire Flake grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall permissively. “At least this will be amusing.” 

“Just, um, just have to get up real close and say a few choice words to him,” Sokka explained unprompted.

Fire Flake shot him a look that made Sokka think his eyebrows had just disappeared into his hairline behind his helmet, and held out his arms in a sarcastic motion. _ He’s all yours. _

“Right.” He took a deep, calming breath and mustered up the resolve to do what had to be done. 

Zuko was still staring at him with that awful expression on his face. Sokka tried to ignore it as he grasped him by the upper arms and hoisted him to his feet. Zuko didn’t flinch, exactly, but he did lean away. It made something clench painfully in his stomach, which he tried to ignore too. 

He guided Zuko toward the wall opposite the one the guard was leaning against and pinned him there, face first, his left forearm against Zuko’s back. He was taking care not to handle him roughly but he also couldn’t be too gentle with Fire Flake’s judgemental gaze boring into their backs. Zuko didn’t resist, but his body was extremely tense, muscles rigid under Sokka's arm. 

Sokka sidled up behind him so he could talk into Zuko’s right ear without Fire Flake hearing. Despite its utility, the position he’d maneuvered them into felt way too personal. He was so close he could feel the other boy’s breath on his face and see the sticky wetness of his eyelashes from where tears had clung to them. His nose and mouth had finally stopped bleeding, and Sokka could see where dried patches of blood had begun to flake. Some of it had also dripped down onto his shirt, staining the fabric a darker shade of red. 

There was a patch of light red skin on the right side of his forehead, above the bruises flowering out across his neck and face, that was peeling a bit. So the flame had gotten close enough to burn him after all. It was mild though, first degree, and it definitely wouldn’t scar, but it still had to hurt. Sokka should’ve been faster. Seeing it only steeled his resolve. He couldn’t let Fire Flake do any worse than that. 

Zuko shifted uncomfortably in his grasp. 

“Sorry,” Sokka whispered into his ear. “I know this isn’t ideal, but I have to be able to talk to you without Fire Flake hearing.” Zuko raised his eyebrow at the nickname before tilting his face to the right, toward him, a quiet acquiescence.

“My dad and I came up with an escape plan. You need to meet me in the yard tomorrow morning. We’re going to kidnap the Warden and take the gondola out of here.” Zuko nodded imperceptibly. He looked vaguely hopeful now. It was nice to see, even though Sokka knew it wouldn’t last.

“Look, Zuko,” he hedged, hating himself before he’d even said anything. Something in his tone must’ve tipped Zuko off to what was coming, because he tensed even more, and his right eye narrowed. “You can’t just - ” 

He paused, reconsidering. He had to be tactful. This would only work if he didn’t try to tell Zuko what he could and couldn’t do. He gentled his voice and started again.

“Think about it, Zuko. If Fire Flake burns you, we can’t just pick you up from the infirmary tomorrow morning and carry you to the gondola.” Sokka’s tone was coaxing, as if he were trying to reason with a rabid armadillo-lion who was in the midst of chewing off its own paw in a desperate bid to escape a hunting trap. “We also can’t leave you behind either, and it would be dangerous to wait around until you’re healed enough to be able to fight. The longer we stick around here, the more likely you are to hear from your father.” 

Zuko’s face turned away from his. 

“And Aang has to learn firebending before the comet. We can’t just… waste time here. We’re going to need your help tomorrow, during the escape. You’re our only firebender.”

He paused. Zuko didn’t say anything. He just tilted his head slightly further away, as if that would make Sokka disappear. As if it would make everything disappear. 

“_Please_, Zuko. I don’t want you to be killed or badly injured. I don’t know if the guard would even stop trying to… to do stuff to you after he burned you anyway.”

Zuko thunked his forehead against the wall hard enough for the metal to clang loudly. Guilt and doubt rendered Sokka momentarily speechless. He didn’t want to be like Fire Flake, trying to break Zuko’s will and erode his resistance. He didn’t want the responsibility of having to plan for the long term and let the collateral damage fall where it may. He wished that his dad were here in his place. He’d know what to do. 

He placed his right hand on Zuko’s bicep and squeezed, running his thumb up and down the other teen’s shirt sleeve, trying to provide some meager measure of comfort. “I’m really, really sorry about… about everything. And I’m sorry to - to have to ask this of you. None of this should be happening. You shouldn’t even be here.” 

He had intended that as an apology, an expression of sympathy, and an admission of his own guilt, but judging by the way Zuko’s face had shuttered closed, it seemed something else had come across instead. What that was, though, he didn’t know. Katara had always been better than him at comforting people, but he was infinitely glad she wasn’t here to witness this. Zuko probably was too. 

“What in Agni’s name is this?” Fire Flake’s voice boomed from across the cell, making the Water Tribe teen jump. “Some sort of cuddle session?” 

Sokka stepped away from Zuko quickly. It seemed their time was up. Hopefully it had been enough to get his point across. He thought it probably had. He didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Zuko was still standing with his forehead pressed against the wall. Sokka couldn’t look at him.

“What sort of garbage are they teaching you new recruits?”

“Actually,” he crossed his arms in a subconscious mirror of Fire Flake’s posture. “I think you’ll find my tactics were very effective.”

“What is whispering in his ear like a sparrowkeet supposed to do, Loverboy? All you did was bash his head against the wall once.”

“Not everything can be solved by beating people. Sometimes you have to apply pressure psychologically. That’s what actually breaks them.”

He had been trying to come up with a convincing lie. He hadn’t meant to stumble across the truth in doing so. 

Everything he’d said to Zuko had been true too. Maybe it was all the more horrible _ because _ it was true. He had felt a lot better when he’d been lying to everyone, including himself.

Fire Flake rolled his eyes. “You’ll think differently when you end up with sixteen stitches on your left clavicle from a prisoner who ripped a metal bolt out of the wall and sharpened it into a shank. That’s what happened to me when I was your age and let me tell you, I learned quick after that. Prisoners cannot be reasoned with.”

This seemed to remind Fire Flake of exactly how unreasonable he thought Zuko was. He grabbed him by the back of the neck and tossed him to the ground at Sokka’s feet. For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Zuko struggled back up to his knees. He didn’t look at Sokka and he didn’t look at Fire Flake. He just knelt, and it felt like something was missing from him. His fire, his defiance. It occurred to Sokka that _ he _ was probably the one who’d snuffed that out. Resignation was so counter to who he was that Sokka felt like he’d ripped out a part of Zuko’s soul and stomped all over it, leaving behind some chasmy imitation-Zuko in place of the real one. 

The guard wasn’t doing anything, which was a relief, but it was unexpected enough for Sokka to stare at him in confusion. 

“What are you looking at me like that for? You said ‘I think you’ll find my tactics were very effective.’” Fire Flake pitched his voice up girlishly as he mimicked him. “So prove it.”

“What?” 

“You said you could get Scarface here to put your dick in his mouth,” the guard said bluntly and very slowly, as if Sokka didn’t understand what words meant. “So. Prove. It.”

“N-no I didn’t,” Sokka stuttered, horrified, his brain once again short-circuiting. “I meant - ”

He’d meant he could get Zuko to put _ Fire Flake’s _ dick in his mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. It sounded too selfish, like he’d just tried to convince Zuko to do something that he wouldn’t do himself, like he was happy to throw him to the lion-wolves for the greater good as long as he didn’t have to have a hand in it. 

He recognized the hypocrisy, but understanding that it existed intellectually didn’t do much to appease the utter sense of panic he was experiencing. It was so strong that he felt dizzy with it. He could understand a lot better now what Zuko must be feeling.

He looked down at the other teen, trying to discern something in the rounded posture of his shoulders that didn’t seem to exist anymore. He willed Zuko to look up so they could have another quick, wordless conversation, so he would know this was still the same prideful jerk with a will of steel and a terrible sense of humor. 

Zuko’s gaze didn’t shift from the floor.

“Well?” Fire Flake demanded when it became clear Sokka wasn’t going to finish his sentence. “Quit staring at him and do it.”

Sokka took a stilted step forward, feeling like a stranger in his own body. A not insignificant part of him was screaming at his legs to walk in the opposite direction, leave the cell, leave Zuko, and not look back. But he knew he couldn’t. If he did what Fire Flake wanted, the guard would recognize that Zuko’s spirit had been broken and go torture someone else. Zuko would be alive and (relatively) unburned, and he wouldn’t have had to suffer under Fire Flake’s likely violent sexual proclivities. He’d just suffer from Sokka instead, but Sokka could at least… try to make it gentle for him.

Maybe all the rationalizations in the world couldn’t justify something like this. He didn’t know. But everything he’d whispered in Zuko’s ear was still true.

Wordlessly, he unbuckled his belt. 

The decision was still Zuko’s, he thought desperately, trying to reassure himself. Zuko could still refuse if he wanted to. He could still choose to be burned instead. The panicked part of Sokka’s brain couldn’t help but hope that he would. 

He felt like he was in someone else's body as he lifted his dick out of his pants in front of imitation-Zuko’s face. The other teen was staring at some distant, nonexistent point, a glassy look in his eyes that Sokka could immediately recognize as that horrified unreality feeling. It seemed Zuko was lost in the same black hole as he was and reality itself was warping around both of them. 

Zuko tilted his head toward Sokka’s dick with excruciating slowness, as if hoping it might vanish if he took long enough. Sokka felt incredibly exposed, frozen in some static blip of time. 

And then Zuko leaned forward haltingly, the movement jerky, and ever so lightly wrapped his lips around the outermost tip of his dick. 

It was the worst thing Sokka had ever felt. He couldn't imagine what it must feel like for Zuko.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Fire Flake gaping. “Wha-? What the hell did you say to him?” Apparently that was a rhetorical question, because without waiting for an answer, he stepped over and thwacked Sokka appreciatively across the back. The hit was congratulatory, but Fire Flake either didn’t know his own strength or didn’t know the definition of restraint. Sokka stumbled forward, which caused him to push further into the other teen’s mouth. Zuko’s teeth clamped down reflexively and Sokka yelped, jerking back.

Fire Flake moved instantly, his shocked appreciation vanishing faster than Aang when it was his turn to wash the dishes. He fisted a hand into Zuko’s shirt and raised him up off his knees, shaking him. “You insolent - “

“No, wait!” Sokka instinctively moved to cover himself with his hand, like modesty even mattered at this point. “I fell forward and surprised him. And he didn’t even really bite! It was an accident.”

Fire Flake leaned in close to Zuko’s face. “If you do anything like that again, if you even _ breathe _on his cock wrong, I will burn both your hands so badly that you’ll never be able to touch yourself again. Is that understood?”

Zuko didn’t answer, he just shook. Fire Flake seemed to take that as answer enough. He maneuvered him back in front of Sokka and stepped back, looking expectant. 

There was something broken in Zuko's expression now, more so than ever before. Sokka stopped looking at his face. With shaking hands, he directed his dick back toward Zuko’s mouth. It was, without a doubt, the worst thing he had ever done.

He felt Zuko’s lips close around the tip again and just stay there. Zuko either didn’t know what to do or he was unwilling to do it. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Fire Flake interjected exasperatedly. “Start sucking, you insolent little shit, and don’t even think about stopping until you’ve made him come.”

There was a brief pause, and then Sokka felt a wet sort of pressure as Zuko took a bit more of him into his mouth. In some vastly different scenario with a very different person, it might’ve felt vaguely good, but he could only feel Zuko’s disgust and hesitancy instead, and his fear, and their mutual humiliation.

He had imagined doing something like this with Suki before, voluntarily of course. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to fantasize about that again.

He had never been less hard or more nauseated, but he was going to have to come before Fire Flake would let this end. The faster he did, the sooner Zuko could stop awkwardly moving his lips around, trying to mimic the appearance of sucking with his tongue pressed as far back against his own throat and away from Sokka’s dick as possible. He had to disconnect, somehow, from reality, and try to get his brain to view the sensations as pleasurable. 

Sokka wrapped a hand around the base of his dick and rubbed, closing his eyes. It felt incredibly wrong. He tried desperately to think of Suki, to imagine it was her mouth on him and they were alone together at the Western Air Temple. He tried to picture the curve of her breasts and sides, the gentle contour of her waist that made a figure eight of her chest and hips.

Zuko paused when Sokka began to harden, withdrawing his head briefly, and the moment was gone. Sokka’s guilt and shame redoubled, and his erection vanished accordingly. This had to end. He was just trying to make it end. Zuko would understand, right?

With a frantic, almost hysterical determination, he once again tried to disconnect the causal relationship his brain had established between Zuko and the sensations being created by his mouth. He rubbed the base of his dick, trying to block everything out, to focus, to feel without thinking about where the feelings were coming from or why. He needed to link them to the images of Suki his mind was conjuring up instead. Her bright blue eyes, the light bob of her hair fluttering impishly against her cheekbone, her lips pressed against his, his hands on her bare chest. He willed his mind to drift into a familiar fantasy of the two of them making love. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood like that, imagining, while Zuko’s mouth unwillingly contorted against him. Coming produced the most confusing mind/body paradox he had ever experienced, horror and pleasure washing over him simultaneously like a miasma. He realized belatedly that he hadn’t meant to actually come in Zuko’s mouth and jerked away halfway through. Unfortunately, this only resulted in his cum being sprayed across Zuko’s face as well.

Distantly, he could hear Fire Flake laughing. Zuko leaned over and spat a mouthful of cum onto the floor. It glistened there like an accusation. Sokka’s knees gave out and he wobbled dangerously. 

Holy fuck. _ Holy fuck. _

This had not just happened. It hadn’t. It _hadn’t_. He hadn't just -

“That good, huh?” Fire Flake placed a steadying hand around his bicep. Sokka couldn’t even bring himself to feel disturbed by how badly the guard had misinterpreted. He was too emotionally exhausted. 

“I have to say, I’m impressed. I guess I misjudged you.”

If there was one thing that could’ve make him feel even worse than he already did, it was that. He remembered when he’d viewed Zuko as nothing more than a nameless Fire Nation soldier, as the same type of person Fire Flake was, back when he’d still had that awkwardly shaved ponytail. The inherent difference in their personalities was now externalized, starkly reflected in the uniforms signifying their respective statuses. Sokka wondered what that made him. 

Before he could attempt the Herculean task of mustering up a response, the metal door swung open and a female guard popped her head into the cell. It was the same one who had arrested Zuko back in what now felt like a different lifetime.

“Kei! There you are,” the woman said to Fire Flake before glancing from Zuko’s cum-streaked face to Sokka’s unbuckled belt and rolling her eyes in goodnatured disgust. Sokka realized that he hadn’t put his dick back into his pants yet and did so quickly, wanting badly to take a running dive off the prison roof and into the boiling water below.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. The Warden’s called an impromptu meeting for all currently off-duty guards. Apparently someone got drunk and decided to one up Jurou by graffitiing the wall of the men's latrine. It’s pretty good, honestly. You should check it out before someone’s forced to clean it up. Anyway, he’s in one of his moods, so you might want to hurry up.”

Fire Flake let out a bark of laughter and stepped over to converse with her. Sokka hadn’t registered much of what she’d said. He’d been too busy watching Zuko, who was attempting to wipe his face clean with his shoulder. The position his arms were bound in made it impossible for him to to reach anything past his cheek. The arrival of the female guard had been an unexpected stroke of luck, but it didn’t feel lucky. He couldn’t help but resent that it hadn’t occurred far sooner.

“You too,” the woman said to Sokka, snapping his attention back to her. “You don’t look like you’re on duty. You can finish having fun later. Anyway, I’ll meet you guys there. Hurry up.” 

Fire Flake gazed appraisingly at Sokka as she left. “Huh, I guess the Warden really was looking for me. I don’t think I caught your name earlier, by the way.”

“It’s Wang," he said tonelessly.

“The interrogation unit could probably use someone like you, Wang.” That was the last thing Sokka wanted but it didn’t matter. They’d be gone tomorrow anyway. “I mean, he broke because of me, not you, but you did end up helping after you stopped acting like a headcase.”

Fire Flake was exiting the cell as he spoke. Sokka hung back. They couldn’t… He couldn’t just leave Zuko like this. “Aren’t you going to uncuff him?” Zuko had maneuvered himself into the corner, where he was sitting with his legs pressed against his chest, face buried in his knees.

“Why should I? He can stay like that and anticipate what it’ll be like when I have my turn tomorrow. What was it you said - ? Allow some time for the dread to really build up, and all that.”

Sokka followed Fire Flake out of the cell numbly, watching as the rapidly closing door erased the last sliver of Zuko’s curled up form from view. He would come back with a key and free Zuko of his restraints as soon as he could. And they would escape tomorrow, long before Fire Flake had a chance to return. _ I promise_, he thought, as if he could somehow transfer this reassurance into Zuko’s head, as if it would make any of this better if he could. _ I promise._

The door shut. 

Zuko had made his choice. Maybe Sokka should’ve let him make it. He didn’t know.

He’d only wanted to prevent a second scar. Somehow, he didn’t think he had. 


	4. Trust and Other Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally intended this fic to be about 5k words total. Suffice to say, it really got away from me. Despite that (or maybe because of it?) I have a few ideas floating around for a short sequel that takes place after everyone’s back at the Western Air Temple. Let me know if there's interest for that. 
> 
> And sorry to everyone I traumatized with the previous two chapters. I’ll see you all in therapy, I guess.

Night had fallen by the time Sokka finally managed to sneak back to the cell, a small towel and bowl of water clutched in his hands and the key to Zuko’s handcuffs tucked in his pocket. The meeting he and the other off-duty guards had been forced to attend had mostly consisted of the Warden regaling them with his usual emotional volatility. Apparently the man really didn’t like graffiti, because he’d spent an inordinate amount of time implying that the next person who wanted to be an artist could use the bottom of the boiling lake as a canvas instead, since that’s where they’d end up. 

Once this had ended, he’d tried and failed to get out of clean up duty at the staff canteen. They’d had jook for dinner that evening, and the sticky rice porridge liked to congeal onto whatever surface it came in contact with. It had taken hours to scrub all the dishes clean.

This had given Sokka plenty of time to agonize over what had occurred. He should’ve done things differently, clearly, but how? Should he not have stepped in? But then Zuko would be charred worse than the blackened pieces of komodo chicken clinging stubbornly to the frying pans. 

The entire time he’d worked, he hadn’t been able to get images of Zuko’s broken, bloody face out of his head, of his legs jerking wildly as he was held against the wall by his throat, his hoarse wheezing, the horrible feel of his mouth. They’d replayed relentlessly, one phantom retreating momentarily just so another could surge forward in its place, and then that too was dragged back down by the next. 

They were still crashing around in his head as he slotted the key into the lock on the cell door, bolts sliding loose. He didn’t want to see those images reflected back at him in the flesh, confirmed undeniably as reality by the person who’d experienced them. It would make everything that had happened too real, too unavoidable. Zuko probably hated him now and didn’t want to see him either, and who could blame him? Sokka would just free his arms, apologize, and leave the bowl of water and towel with him like a peace offering. Only, it was difficult to think of what might count as an adequate apology. What were you supposed to say after something like this? 

He’d figure it out as he went. Not that that had worked at any other point today, but he was just as out of ideas now as he’d been then. Steeling himself, he stepped hesitantly inside. 

Zuko was sitting against the far wall on the thin, rolled up pallet that was meant to function as a bed. His body tensed as the door scraped open, and he immediately leveled Sokka with the full force of his pale-eyed, livid glare. It was the same look of utter loathing he’d given Fire Flake when the man had been beating the shit out of him. The intensity of it felt like a physical blow, and Sokka took a step back, thrown off balance. It didn’t feel good to be on the receiving end of it, but he also wasn’t particularly surprised to find himself there. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the accompanying trepidation etched into Zuko’s face and body language, like he expected _ Sokka _ to start beating the shit out of him too. Or worse. 

“What do you want?” The words were laced with a frayed, splenetic animosity. It reminded him viscerally of a polar bear-dog he’d seen in his childhood who’d been stuck in a cage for far too long and poked with a stick one too many times. The animal had kept trying to bite purely out of desperation rather than because it would actually accomplish anything. He knew the anger was warranted. He tried not to let the fear sting. 

“I just - I came to uncuff you. That’s all.”

“Oh. It’s you,” Zuko said tonelessly, and the fight vanished from his body.

Sokka could’ve kicked himself. Of course the other teen hadn’t recognized him - he was still wearing his helmet. He set the bowl and towel down and shut the cell door behind him before pulling it off and placing it next to the other items. Zuko wasn’t bracing himself anymore, but he didn’t look all that relieved either. He was just studying some distant point on the floor, lips curled downward. 

“Sorry I didn’t come back sooner,” he hedged, unsure how to broach the topic of... anything. Zuko shrugged. “Did anyone else come in while I was gone?”

“No.” The word was emotionless. He was still far too interested in the metal sheeting below Sokka’s feet.

Sokka wrung his hands anxiously. He wished the other teen would start acting angry again. This was uncomfortably close to the imitation-Zuko who had haunted his memories as he’d frantically scrubbed plates. 

“I - I have the key. Your arms. They must be...”

Wordlessly, Zuko shifted around in a half circle, baring his wrists. Sokka knelt, fumbling a bit as he slipped the key into the lock. Zuko’s arms flopped uselessly down to his sides as the metal fell open, the movement eliciting a pained hiss and a few muttered curse words. Sokka wasn’t sure how long he’d been restrained like that, but he did know it had been hours since he’d left Zuko’s cell with Fire Flake. Pins and needles had to be shooting down the other boy’s limbs like lightning bolts as the increased blood flow awakened his dormant nervous system. Zuko shifted back around, careful not to jostle his arms, and leaned gingerly against the wall again. There were two rings of bruising circling his wrists like phantom handcuffs. 

“Here.” Sokka grabbed the bowl and towel. “It’s for your face. I thought that, well, um, you know. You might want to get cleaned up and stuff.” He held both items out. Zuko leaned forward slightly and managed a sort of floppy, aborted movement with his shoulders. Nothing else happened.

“Oh. Your arms are numb.” 

“I wish they were numb. I just can’t move them yet.” 

There was a moment of silence, Zuko staring determinedly at the wall, Sokka struggling to formulate his jumbled thoughts into a passably coherent sentence. They never got formulated. They just came spilling out all at once instead.

“I know this can’t make things better and it won’t change anything that already happened and you have every right to be mad at me, but I just want to say that I - ”

“Don’t.” Zuko’s voice was hard. It felt like a slap. He was glaring at the wall. “Just don’t.”

“What? Why? I’m not - I’m just trying to - ”

“I know. Just... just _ don’t_. It doesn’t matter.”

Out of all the possible reactions he had anxiously anticipated Zuko having, not even letting him apologize at all hadn’t been one of them. Lost for how to proceed, he fidgeted restlessly, picking at a loose thread on the hand towel. There had been a note of finality in Zuko’s voice that he didn’t want to push. 

“How are your arms?” was what he finally landed on. 

Zuko’s fingers twitched fruitlessly in answer. “I still can’t lift them.”

“Do you want me to, um…” The thread snapped off the towel. “It can’t be… comfortable with your face still like that. Do you want me to - for you. Since your arms are… I mean.” 

It was incredibly difficult to talk to Zuko or even look at him with his face still covered in that stomach-turning mix of bodily fluids. The other boy had to be at least as eager as he was to be rid of it.

Zuko sighed audibly, his head lowering. “Fine,” he said, his tone making it apparent that he was swallowing his pride all over again, and resented that.

Sokka wet a corner of the rag and held it up, but his hand stopped automatically an inch or two away, paralyzed by a terrible sense of deja vu. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself lowering his dick toward Zuko’s mouth as the teen knelt glassy-eyed and shaking. It felt way too similar to this. 

Zuko still wasn’t looking at him, but he must’ve noticed the hesitancy. Sokka could almost hear his eyes rolling. “Come on, Sokka.”

He then glowered at the floor hard enough to shatter the parallel and jolt Sokka helpfully back to the present. This was now and that had been then, and the two actions, the two _ Zukos_, couldn’t have been more diametrically opposed.

It was gruesome work regardless, blood and cum clearing away to reveal bursts of heavy bruising underneath. The dried blood clung stubbornly, and he had to press harder against the bruises than he would’ve liked in order to remove it. If it hurt, Zuko gave no indication. He just stared stoically ahead, his mouth pressed into a thin line. 

Sokka had been avoiding the scar, but once the rest of his face was wiped clean there was no excuse to delay it any longer. Hesitantly, he ran the corner of the towel across the bottommost edge of raised skin, a ghost touch. Zuko tensed at the contact, his mouth tightening even more, but made no move to stop him. 

It felt almost like another out of body experience, wiping his own cum out of the crests of the burn scar of his former enemy. Even through the towel, he could feel the way the flesh had healed in unnatural textured ridges.

Zuko was an incredibly guarded person, rarely if ever risking appearing weak by verbally expressing insecurity. Despite this, it had always been clear from body language alone that the scar was a sore spot for him. It made him feel self conscious, and yeah, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. It was like the wounded part of Zuko’s psyche had been externalized through it, constantly radiating the very type of vulnerable, damaged front he tried so hard not to present emotionally. It was a hell of a first impression to be forced to make for the rest of your life. 

Touching the scar felt like almost as much of a violation of Zuko’s boundaries as anything else he’d done. He paused, caught in some uncertain liminality between action and stasis, and then quickly jerked his hand away when he noticed the wetness that had gathered in Zuko’s unburned eye, dripping sluggishly onto his cheekbone. 

“Sorry! I shouldn’t have - I’ll stop now.”

Zuko leveled a glare at him. It was the first time he’d made eye contact since figuring out Sokka was Sokka and not some nameless guard sent to torture him. Despite the tears, the expression felt so normal, so patently _ Zuko_, that seeing it caused an inexplicable surge of relief. 

“No. You think the rag is worse than what it’s cleaning off? Just_ hurry up_.”

It was Sokka’s turn to study the floor, which he did, feeling mortified. “Right, um. Of course.”

He raised the towel.

Zuko sat there like a statue and didn’t cry again. 

* * *

Sokka slumped back against the perpendicular wall, towel and bowl discarded in the corner. Zuko was clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to stimulate blood flow to his arms, his face clear of everything except scar and bruises. His legs had uncurled from his chest to stretch out loosely in front of him in an obvious display of relief.

Maybe Zuko hadn’t wanted to hear his apology earlier because he hadn’t believed Sokka was actually sorry. But actions spoke louder than words, and washing his face had been an unmistakable act of contrition. Maybe he would believe it now. Sokka took a steadying breath and opened his mouth to try again. 

“I know you didn’t want to hear it before, but I can’t just not say it. You don’t have to accept my apology but - ”

“You never stop, do you?” Zuko’s knees had curled right back up to his chest. He sounded genuinely angry now, a raw, furious edge to his voice. “Do you think I don’t get it? Stop trying to get me to say it’s okay. Just let it be done.”

“I know but - ”

“If you know,” he ground out, clearly attempting to reign in some of the emotionality, “then why are you apologizing?” 

“Alright. I won’t apologize for that. But at least let me say sorry for letting you come here with me in the first place.”

“_Letting me? _”

That had definitely not been a good way to phrase it. 

“Right, how could I forget,” Zuko said thickly, bitterly. “I _ shouldn’t even be here_. If only I hadn’t taught Aang firebending or tried to join your group or… _ burdened you with my presence_. Then none of this would’ve happened.” He tapered off, sounding close to tears.

“You didn’t have to join the group if you didn’t want to.”

“No, that’s - ” Zuko shook his head miserably. “I do want to.”

Want, he’d said. Present tense. Not wanted. 

A bunch of puzzle pieces, previously jumbled beyond recognition, were suddenly slotting together in Sokka’s mind, revealing a retrospective picture he immediately recognized despite never having seen before.

Everything that had confused him about Zuko’s behaviour, from his reckless insistence on coming along to his choice to be arrested in Sokka’s place, was now converging into a single, comprehensible pattern that finally seemed to contain some measure of logical consistency. It wasn’t that Zuko lacked a strategist side, really, it was that he’d been acting with a goal in mind that Sokka hadn’t understood. This had all been like an extended, glorified version of leaping out in front of Combustion Man right as he’d been about to blow them off the side of the cliff face. 

He was still attempting to prove his loyalty. 

He had been trying to gain Sokka’s trust. 

Zuko had never been a words sort of guy, Sokka thought, as the weight of this new information settled heavily in his solar plexus. Things tended to come out awkward with him, as had been apparent when he’d first shown up at the Western Air Temple stumbling over explanations and trying to convince them of his change of heart. He didn’t seem like the type to just sit down and have a heart-to-heart, but maybe he had tried and no one had listened, and it was so far outside his comfort zone anyway that he hadn’t bothered to try again. He’d just decided to let his actions do the talking instead. Well, Sokka was listening now. 

“You are part of the group already, Zuko.” But even as he said it, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that it wasn’t entirely true. 

Sokka had derived no small amount of petty satisfaction from antagonizing him with childish insults and snarky commentary during Aang’s firebending lessons. Zuko’s obvious displays of irritation had made it way too easy and far too rewarding to pass up. It was just harmless teasing, he’d figured, and even if it wasn’t, it hadn’t felt undeserved, given their history. 

Katara still wasn’t even convinced Zuko wasn’t just a good actor with phenomenal long term planning abilities, and Sokka wondered how seriously he’d taken her threats of ‘ending him permanently.’ He couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t have made good on them if Zuko had let Sokka be the one to get arrested, and that really put things into perspective now that he thought about it.

Aang and Toph had accepted him at least, but Aang liked anything that breathed and Toph thought expressions of fondness and physical violence were synonyms. Not to mention they were both twelve. So that kind of put a damper on things. 

Sokka had thought he’d already hit the maximum threshold of guilty conscience, but nope, he’d been wrong. 

“You don’t have to lie.” Zuko’s tone was soft. It belied his words. 

“I’m not.” And he wasn’t, not entirely. The other teen’s place in the group was just still a work in progress. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be progress. 

“He was right, you know, about some things,” Zuko said distantly, after a few moments of heavy silence. 

“What?”

“The guard.”

“What? Zuko, no.” Sokka felt very concerned now. He’d known there was no way the other teen would walk away from what had occurred without some psychological scars to show for it, but he hadn’t expected quite this degree of severity. “Nothing Fire Flake said could be classified as anything even remotely approaching right.”

“You don’t understand. The Water Tribes don’t have the same honor system as the Fire Nation.”

“Hey, we have an honor system!”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “I said the _ same_. Loyalty is a point of pride for us. A murderer, even a rapist, is more honorable than a traitor. I’m probably one of the biggest traitors in the history of my country.”

“You’re not a traitor.” The response was automatic. 

“Right. That’s why I helped Azula shoot lightning at Aang, betrayed my uncle, and then turned around and betrayed the rest of my family.”

“I mean, it sounds bad when you put it like that, but ending this war will help everyone. We came across this Fire Nation village a while ago. The whole place was just ruined by a nearby military factory. People were dying. Katara got really choked up about it.”

Zuko scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know, Sokka. There are things way worse than that, believe me. My father and his generals see everyone as disposable, even their own people. I don’t know how aware those villagers even are of whose fault their suffering is. We value loyalty, like I said. Loyalty to Fire Lord Ozai, to the nation.” Zuko’s gaze shifted down to the floor again. He looked exhausted. “The guard is one of my people too. So is the Warden. Even if Aang does kill my father and I manage to defeat Azula, my subjects will never accept me as their Fire Lord. They hate me.”

Sokka’s heart clenched painfully in sympathy. Politics were always volatile, but Fire Nation politics were notorious for being especially so, and Zuko had to have one of the worst family dynamics ever. If you counted a prince’s entire country as inherently part of his family, he had an even worse worst family dynamic. 

“I think most of your people will be able to understand if you explain things to them right. I mean, you and your uncle are Fire Nation and you get it. You can’t make assumptions based off just a few prison guards. Or your dad and sister. Or the Fire Nation military…” He trailed off, realizing he probably wasn’t helping. Zuko didn’t dignify him with a reply. 

The conversation had gotten tangential, and Sokka didn’t think he’d made it clear yet just how ‘right about some things’ he thought Fire Flake wasn’t. He searched the other teen's face, as if instructions on how to get through to him would be written there. “None of this stuff about you being a traitor makes anything Fire Flake did right or justified. You know that, right?”

Zuko leveled him with an unmoved look, as if Sokka was intentionally missing the point. “It’s just what people do to their enemies. We’re in the middle of a war, Sokka.”

“I know we are, trust me, but that still isn’t an excuse.” 

Zuko’s arms had apparently recovered, because his hands were now lurching up to tug at his hair in frustration. “How can you possibly still be this naive?” 

Sokka looked at him incredulously. “What, I’m naive because I think it’s wrong to… to torture someone for trying to make the world a better place?” 

“That’s not how they see it. They see a prince who turned his back on his people to join up with the one person capable of hurting them most!”

“Yeah.” Sokka couldn’t deny that, but it also wasn’t the point. “I get that. But there are still certain things you just… don’t _ do _ to people.”

Zuko gave a sort of agitated exhale and tugged at his hair harder, like Sokka’s insistence was physically painful to him. “Surely you remember,” he began, his tone making it clear he both couldn’t believe he had to explain this and very much didn’t want to have to, “me attacking your village and burning down Kyoshi Island? What about me tying Katara to a tree and, I don’t know, constantly trying to capture Aang and send him back to the Fire Lord? _ Surely _ you remember that.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to forget.”

“Then_ how _ \- ” The words sounded raw, bloody, like they’d emerged from a deep, unscabbed wound. “How can you think what that guard did was wrong?” 

It seemed Zuko had resigned himself to Sokka’s condemnation and just wanted him to get it over with. It was exactly how Sokka had felt when he’d been trying to ask for Zuko’s forgiveness. How he still felt. 

If trying to formulate an apology had been like navigating a Fire Nation minefield without Appa, this was even worse. He wouldn’t condemn Zuko but he also couldn’t offer him the absolution he was looking for, not entirely. Almost nothing about war was right and no one walked away from it with their hands clean, but Zuko had, at one point or another, managed to massively piss off both sides of the conflict. It was almost impressive.

At the same time though, he had always at least attempted to act in accordance with some morally consistent code of honor. Fire Flake hadn’t done that. He had used a code of honor external to himself to justify his pre-existent sadism. He hadn’t been trying to do the right thing, he’d done what he wanted to and called it right.

“I’m not going to lie, you did a lot of really shitty things,” Sokka began, voice level. “But you didn’t torture people you’d already captured when they couldn’t fight back just out of a desire for revenge. And you didn’t… you didn’t do anything like what... _ I _ did to you a bit ago either.” It was painful to say. “You always at least tried to do the right thing, I think, and it seems like you had standards too. You just... didn’t know what the right thing was yet, I guess.” 

It felt weird justifying the actions the Prince of the Fire Nation had taken against them, and part of Sokka balked at having to do it. It was all true though, and he’d been willing enough to be honest with Zuko a few hours ago about what would happen if Fire Flake burned him in order to try to force his hand. He owed him this much now. There was a world of difference between Zuko and Fire Flake. There always had been. 

“Fire Flake wasn’t following any real code of honor and if he was, it’s not one that should exist. No offense to the Fire Nation.” 

This seemed to have placated Zuko enough for him to stop trying to give himself a bald patch, but he was now directing a thousand-yard stare at his own knees instead. It was a pretty meager improvement. “I would’ve sent Aang back to my father,” he whispered, not looking up. “You keep saying I was tortured but you don’t even know what that word means. The Fire Lord would’ve inflicted it, the _ real _ thing, on a twelve year old, and I would’ve… I would’ve just handed him over and let that happen. I intended to.” 

Sokka didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He had entered the cell hoping to somehow gain Zuko’s forgiveness. He didn’t know when this had become about Zuko seeking his. 

“That’s… I mean yeah, that’s fucking terrible.” He paused. “You didn’t though.”

Zuko was still staring at his knees. 

“Look, we got off to a rough start, okay, but no one… no one holds that against you anymore. Except maybe Katara, but she’s also still mad about the time I kicked over her snow castle when she was five. She holds grudges. It’s nothing personal. Well, it is, actually, but it’s not just you she’s like that with.

“I just want you to know that while Fire Flake may’ve been enacting some twisted form of vengeance today, I wasn’t. I hope that much at least was already clear. I was just trying to keep you from being burned so we could all escape and… I really am sorry. I didn’t want any of that to happen. I feel fucking terrible about it. About everything. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I get it, Sokka,” Zuko said quietly. He didn’t sound angry anymore, just deeply tired. “I never thought you were actually trying to… hurt me. You didn’t want to do it either. I understand.”

“I - ” 

“I don’t want to talk about it. This was one of the worst days of my life, which is saying something, and I’m sure it wasn’t one of your better ones either. Let’s just move on now.” 

Nothing was fixed and neither of them were okay, but Sokka knew this was the closest they’d be able to come to resolution right now. Maybe nothing could ever really fix this, not completely. What had happened couldn’t be erased any more than it could be undone, and their relationship going forward had been irreparably shifted. But at the same time, some new awareness had come into being between them, some new door had opened onto a possibility that existed beyond either of their absolutions. For the first time, they were on the threshold of understanding one another. They had already begun to step through. 

It felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted from Sokka’s shoulders. He leaned back against the wall bonelessly, slightly giddy with relief. 

“I can get on board with that. Moving on, I mean. We’ll be moving right on out of here tomorrow too. I could not be more ready for that to happen.”

Zuko was mirroring Sokka’s posture against his own wall. He tried to muster up one last glare but was too depleted to make it look threatening.

“If you mention anything about what happened to anyone once we get back, I’m throwing that shitty boomerang you’re overly attached to off the cliff side.”

“Alright, Jerkbender,” Sokka said gently. “I’m not exactly eager to let anyone know either. And that’s a terrible threat, by the way. Boomy always comes back.” 

“Not if I burn it first.” 

“You’re just saying that because my boomerang’s knocked you on your butt multiple times. Sneak attacks trump magic fire powers any day.”

“That was once, Sokka.” There was a ghost of a smile flitting across the corners of Zuko’s mouth. He was always frowning, which meant this was basically the equivalent of a full fledged smile. Sokka beamed at him. It may’ve been a bit watery. 

A mountain of tension had vanished from the cell. The worst was over. There was nowhere to go from here but up. Assuming, of course, that their escape was successful. 

“We’ll make it out of here tomorrow, you know.” It was a reassurance Zuko hadn’t asked for, but it felt wrong not to say it. “With my martial arts prowess and your Dragon Dance firebending moves, no one will be able to stop us. Trust me.”

Zuko looked at him, some unreadable expression on his face. “I do trust you,” he said simply, and there was a sort of profundity to it.

“I trust you too,” Sokka replied, and wasn’t surprised to discover he meant it. 

Despite all the burdens they'd both been saddled with, it seemed one past one had finally lifted and something new had come into being between them. 

Maybe, Sokka thought, as he locked the cell door behind him for what he hoped was the final time, it wasn’t about Zuko being incredibly confident or incredibly reckless or incredibly suicidal. Sure, those traits existed, but they weren’t the most important parts. A new trait had emerged, one he hadn’t known how to see before. 

Incredibly loyal. Maybe that’s what Zuko was. 


End file.
